


Green Mountains and Stolen Crowns

by myrtleandmercury



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Kidnapping, The Princess Bride - Freeform, fairytale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-09-06 10:55:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16831234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrtleandmercury/pseuds/myrtleandmercury
Summary: A fairytale of the adventures, heartbreak, and betrayal of a crown prince and sorcerer learning to say 'I love you'.





	1. A beloved fairy tale.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just something really self-indulgent I've wanted to do for a long time!

Our story begins, as most of this nature do, in a land long forgotten and a time awfully remembered. It begins in the sleepy town of Camelot, a grey settlement with fierce rulers and an ever-present stench of manure and sweat wafting through the air. Camelot is dull and boring, bereft of adventures or betrayal, of wars and heartbreaks, yet somehow still home to the greatest love story to ever be told. This is the story of the greatest king to ever rule, and the greatest sorcerer to walk the land. Shockingly, they don’t get along.

……….

In fact, the only time our two heroes meet without immediately plunging a fist into a face, is when Merlin Emrys, son of Hunith and holder of the greatest magic ever known, saved Arthur Pendragon, prince to the throne of Camelot and son of the most nefarious magic-hater in the kingdom, from meeting his untimely end with a long dagger struck through his heart. Merlin, accompanying his guardian and court physician, Gaius, to a royal banquet, had been the only one at that feast to not fall prey to an enchantress's spell. The young sorcerer had managed to awaken the guests of their enchanted slumber, and when the cruel witch had desperately flung a blade towards the prince, he had pushed Arthur out of the way, saving his life and subsequently earning a position in the royal household as manservant to the prince.

A job he completely loathed.

Arthur seemed to take pleasure in ordering Merlin around day and night, his demands always served with an insult and an insult always served with a smirk. However, through hunting trips and magical attacks, poorly plotted assassination attempts and cold nights under the stars, the warlock began to realize that when the prince seemingly teased him mercilessly, he really meant I love you, and it took him longer to realize that he, in fact, loved the prince as well. 

Now, this would seem to be the perfect place to end this fairytale, wouldn’t it? To end this scene with a kiss and a bow, a dull yet safe story, with a happily ever after. Only, the trouble is, that our heroes are complete idiots, and left their unspoken confessions and tender touches until far, far too late. A world intolerable of both equal love and spell-casting had forced them to live their lives in secret, to never risk exposure for they would both certainly meet an untimely end. 

However, their pining glances were all in vain, and if they had let themselves fly then the end result would’ve been something incredible, had the young warlock not been caught practicing magic by a lowly kitchen maid and forced to flee Camelot. When the prince caught wind of the news, he stayed in his chambers for four whole days, bathing in a mood so sullen and black that anyone who dared enter left feeling as though the weight of a gigantic boulder had been placed upon their backs. When he finally emerged from his bed, he was distant and cold to all, his silent and straight posture a far cry from the arrogant yet caring prince Camelot had grown to love. King Uther, disappointed in his son for allowing his heart to be lost so easily, had crowned his ward, Morgana, heir to the throne. Arthur was to be married to Lady Sophia, offspring to Lord Aulfric and heir of a well-respected noble family. When informed of the news, Arthur had simply strode to the stables with his signature wooden expression and had not returned until gone midnight, for riding was one of the only things that brought him joy anymore. Hope seemed all but lost for Arthur, until, on the night before his betrothal, he was kidnapped.


	2. The adventure begins.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and into the story, we go!

Really, Arthur thought as he awoke with a heaving breath and a lurching stomach, hands bound behind his back to an uncomfortable piece of wood sticking out of his captor’s brown and unpolished boat, they could’ve at least tied up my horse. If I can’t find her when all this is done, some serious action will be taken. 

For all his gloominess and self-loathing, Arthur was bored. Playing the role of a tool only used to secure alliances and a diplomat only to show his face at important meals, he’d begun to feel awfully cooped up, like there was no proper purpose to his life. His temporary substitute for a manservant, George, was about as exciting as a clump of moss to talk to, and Arthur had long since given up on trying to spark a stimulating conversation, debate or even argument out of the snobbish servant. Honestly, if this was how princesses and noblewomen felt like all the time, then Arthur had a strong respect for the female gender. So when the unenthusiastic and clearly lying strangers had approached him during his midnight ride, he had decided to go along with their scheme, barely even putting up a fight as they wrestled him and knocked him unconscious with a cheap shot involving a rock and the crown of his head.

Although maybe just this once, Arthur reluctantly admitted, he had been the foolish one, for now, he was on a dangerously swaying boat in the middle of the night with no way to orientate himself, under the close eye of three burly men with bulging muscles. Even though he could totally and completely take on the men and win, thank you, he also had a raging headache that caused the stars above him to swim like fireflies, and the notion that maybe he shouldn't rush into this situation head first.

“Ah, so the sleeping beauty finally awakens”, Arthur dragged his tired eyes towards the blurred silhouette standing over him, blinking rapidly until he could make out a very familiar face. “Alined?”

“That's King Alined to you”, the former monarch responded, his sour lips mutating his sunken features into a parody of a smirk. He had lost a lot of weight, Arthur noticed, since his father had banished him when Merlin and Arthur had uncovered his plot to overthrow Uther and take Camelot for himself. His eyes were larger now, eyelids looked stretched and more translucent, and his face looked gaunt and unhealthy. He made a very unnerving image to Arthur, who had only seen him dressed up in all of his fineries, radiating power.

“King of what, exactly?” Arthur’s throat was parched and sore, his voice sounding more like a croak, and he distantly wondered whether his captors would feed and water him or simply leave him to perish of fatigue.

Alined sneered. “King of the five kingdoms, soon. I cunningly placed King Olaf’s crest on the beach we took you from, along with a shred of your cape, so that when Uther’s men find you dead on the shores of Avalon, they’ll blame his kingdom and a war will ensue while I watch from the background, ready to invade and seize both thrones, then take over the rest of the kingdoms with my acquired power. Genius, really.”

Arthur allowed a moment for Alined to stand with his hands of his hips, proud and tall, before clearing his throat.

“You’re an idiot. You really think that King Uther would believe that a well-stitched crest had somehow fallen from a knight’s clothing? My father and King Olaf have been allies for decades, there's no way he’d believe this was an act of war. I really hope you have a backup plan ready, or I’m going to die for nothing. And dying is a terrible hindrance”

Luckily, before Alined exploded or his face grew even more violet it became blue, a new figure strolled into Arthur’s vision. He was clearly much younger than Alined, with dark glossy locks down to his shoulders and a gait that oozed self-confidence, complete with a sheathed sword at his hip with delicate patterns and etchings that rivaled Arthur's own intricate design. “Sir”, he drawled hooking his thumbs over the waistband of his trousers, “It is my understanding that I am to inform you of any suspicious activity while we travel to the shores of Avalon?”

Alined sighed heavily, his thick brows furrowed in an exasperated frown. “Gwaine”, He snapped, “I don’t have time for this. Are you incompetent enough to forget your role in this? Now go be a good boy and don't disturb me or my guest.”

Gwaine ignored him easily, breezing over the instructions with an ease that suddenly reminded Arthur of Merlin’s own disobedience with a painful tug at his chest. “Only, there’s a small boat with a highly suspicious man in black clothes and a mask that's been following us for the fast few hours, Thought you shout know.”

“What?!” Alined exploded. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I did tell you.”

“When?!”

“About five seconds ago, sire. Better get moving, he sure isn't wasting any time.”

With a frustrated huff, Alined turned to the bulky figure steering the ship. “Percival! Are you intentionally moving us as slow as a lame horse? Move faster, damn you!”

To Arthur's disappointment, Percival didn’t make any kind of response, only increasing the speed of the boat by a fraction of a second. A shame really, he would’ve enjoyed seeing how many colors Alined could turn. Turning his attention to the bottom of the boat in the hopes of catching a glimpse of their follower, he briefly met the eye of the other man, Gwaine, who winked at him with a sly smirk. “Don’t worry. Alined is an idiot of the most idiotic kind”.

Arthur snorted. “Believe me, I know. Did you know he once tried to use magic on Uther Pendragon’s son, in Uther Pendragon’s kingdom, In Uther Pendragon's castle?”

“Now that’s a story I’d love to hear the ending of.”

“Shut up!” Alined snapped, spit flying from his white lips. “You’re supposed to be afraid!”

“With a face like that, I’m closer to laughing”.

“Shut up! We’re here anyway, Gwaine, fetch the rope. No way is that…brute going to follow us up the Cliffs Of Insanity!”

Yet another stupid name, Arthur thought sourly. Really, if they didn’t want stereotypical villains and dangerous adventures, the kings should stop naming everything like it was from a children’s book of fairy tales.

…..

Around five minutes later, Arthur found himself strapped to the heavy frame of one of his captors, along with an idiotic ex-monarch and a flirtatious swordsman and began to wonder if his boredom was possibly better than being subject to Alined’s nonstop commentary and brainless thoughts. Clinging onto the soft material of Percival’s tunic, he spared a glance downwards, to see the mysterious figure clad in dark materials and a violet cape had begun to climb the rope that they were currently using. “He’s climbing the rope”, Arthur breathed in disbelief, because really, was everyone around here a fool?

Gwaine followed his gaze downwards. “And gaining on us”, he added, with a strange admiration in his voice. Alined reddened. “Move faster!” He shouted directly into Percival’s face. “Look,” Percival responded, with a quiet voice like steel mahogany, “I’m carrying three people and he’s only got himself. How is that fair?”

Alined scowled. “I didn’t hire you for your brains, provide you a job and a bed for your intelligence! Now, move!”

They reached the clifftops with a seemingly impossible speed, heaving themselves onto the glorious flat, horizontal land. Arthur’s legs felt like jelly as he gratefully draped himself across the nearest boulder, panting into the stationary stone. A seconds peace passed, before Alined was up again, sawing desperately at the rope and sitting back triumphantly on his heels as they watched the end slip over the edge. “Wow”, Gwaine remarked casually from where he was perched on a stone step, head rested against the concrete pillar of the ruins they were surrounded by. “He’s got strong arms.” Alined raced to the edge, clutching at the little hair he had left. “he didn’t fall?”.

“Obviously not”, Arthur panted, earning himself a glare that should’ve been more threatening than it was. “I’ll take the boy and you-” Alined pointed a threatening finger at Gwaine and Percival, “Don't let him get past you! Is that understood?”

“Crystal clear.”

…….

It should be let known now that Merlin Emrys was not athletic in any way, shape or form. Let it also be known that Merlin had more than enough natural gifts to make up for this, such as his magic that he used at every possible moment. Including to steer his boat at a speed that should’ve been impossible while he sat back and relaxed, all the while making occasional eye contact and waving at the far too amused swordsman holding Arthur Pendragon captive. Which, in itself, was a move beyond stupid. Firstly, although Uther Pendragon was often cold and uncaring, Arthur was still the crown prince and he would stop at nothing to retrieve his heir. Secondly, Arthur was one of the best fighters Merlin had ever seen, and as he was most certainly letting himself become captured out of boredom, (4 years of serving the man had allowed Merlin to read Arthur like a book), the captors were clearly either unaware or uncaring of his abilities. Merlin refused to believe that the Prince was somehow damaged or otherwise incapacitated, or there would most certainly be hell to pay. Climbing the rope had been easy enough, the other men obviously not noticing the way his hands didn’t move to pull him up nor his legs propel him forwards, simply gliding up the worn material. Honestly, Merlin felt more awesome then he had in years, clad in his mask and admittedly over the top cape.

He swung himself over the top of the cliff with practiced ease, to meet the two bulky men playing cards with their swords by their sides as they waited patiently. “In a second”, The man he’d been waving to greeted distractedly, his eyes still focused on his hand. “I’ve nearly beaten Percival here”. 

“Oh”, Merlin said, slightly disappointed at the lack of action. “Okay. I’ll just.. wait here?” The larger one, Percival, grunted in affirmation. Merlin shrugged and sat himself down on the worn stones, surveying his surroundings. They were in the middle of some kind of broken structure made of stones, most likely some kind of church or temple, although the disuse was clear by the weeds and ivy weeding through the various cracks, clumps of grass sprouting from the ground. Beyond the church, there was a cold grassland, dewdrops on the green blades reflecting bright lights as the sun slowly climbed its way up to greet the morning clouds and paint them a shocking pink. The air was chilly, yet easily fresher than Merlin had known for years. At least Arthur would be able to finally catch a breath of clean air before Merlin came to rescue him.

“Right”, the first of the men said, sitting up and brushing imaginary dust from his trousers. He stuck out a dirty palm, and Merlin accepted it cautiously. “I’m Gwaine, and this is Percival, and we are not going to kill you”

“Hi to both of you. And thanks, that is rather good news. May I ask why?”

“Because while Uther is a bastard that authorized the killing of hundreds of men, women, and children without a seconds thought, Arthur was a hell of a good fighter, and has a noble heart I was assured. So, we have no reason to get in the way.”

Merlin nodded sagely. “I’m very grateful. Uh, would you mind pointing me in the direction they went?”

Gwaine sat down again and reached towards the stack of cards, shuffling them absent-mindedly. “Just down that road”, he nodded with his head, “Alined is really unhealthy so they wouldn't have gotten far.”

Merlin grinned. “Alined took Arthur? Oh, this’ll be fun.” 

…..

Gwaine was right, Merlin found because thankfully he managed to catch up with Alined and Arthur within a few minutes. They were clearly waiting for him, Alined practically rubbing his hands together in glee and anticipation, a small table of food and wine set before them, while Arthur sat blindfolded and bound with a bored expression on his face, unbothered by the blade pointed at his neck. “So,” Alined began, “It is down to you and-”

“Oh, you brought food?” Merlin interrupted, sitting himself down eagerly on the ground in front of the small feast. “What’re we having?”.

Alined spluttered, “I-what, don’t interrupt me!” He smoothed down his hair in a gesture that was probably supposed to be regal but left his hair even messier than before. “Look, we’re at an impasse. I can’t compete with you physically, and you can’t compete with me mentally.” 

“You’re that smart?” Merlin questioned, reaching for a slice of bread. Alined slapped his hand away. “In that case, I challenge you to a battle of wits.”

Alined raised an eyebrow. “For Arthur?” Merlin smiled. “To the death? In that case, I accept.”

He shifted the two goblets of wine around, the liquid slopping precariously so that one was facing Merlin and the other was facing himself. Merlin smiled innocently, allowing the idiot to babble on in the way a mother lets a child tire themselves out.

“I’ve poisoned one of our glasses, and it is up to you to decide which one. The battle of wits ends when you make your decision and we drink from our glasses, and find out which of us is right, and which of us is dead.”

Merlin smiled. “Sure. I pick mine.”

Alined's eyebrows shot up. “You-what? Don’t you want to think about it? You’re done that quickly?”

“Well, yes. I have pretty good luck. And a secret weapon.

“Which is?” Alined questioned, before he was hit in the head by a rather large rock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehe


	3. The not-so-grand rescue and escape.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...I might have taken a little too long to finish this chapter.

Arthur dropped the stone with an impatient sigh, holding his bound hands out towards Merlin like an impudent child.

“Really, Merlin, you didn’t need to drag it on like that. What took you so long?”

Merlin reached forward reluctantly, his fumbling fingers working quickly to find the knot. “Hey, you could at least pretend like you didn’t know it was me. Humour an old friend.” Merlin commented absent-mindedly. “Aha!”

The rope fell away into a bundle on the floor, and arthur rubbed his wrists carefully before removing the scarlet blindfold, and subjecting Merlin to one of his most spine-chilling glares, reserved for only special occasions. Merlin tried- and failed- to seem like he didn’t wither under the stare.

“I spent four years disgraced by your presence. Of course I knew it was you, much to my disappointment.”

Merlin peeled away the leather mask with great reluctance, rubbing at the area around his eyes. He had freckles, Arthur noticed, small constellations of dark stars dotted around his eyes. His skin was still as pale as ever, yet seemed to be more weathered now, as if he’d spent many hours working. He’d grown up, Arthur realised with a shock, in the year they were separated. He’d changed in many ways and forms, a new spark to his eyes and inches to his legs, yet his lopsided smile and awkward posture still proved he was still the incompetent servant boy he’d held many adventures with. Arthur turned away, forcing the sadness and longing deep down, instead allowing himself to grow angry, for attacking was better than staying vunreable. Merlin had left him, without word even though he’d promised they’d always stick together, and for him to show up now without word nor apology- 

“Hardly complementary, your highness. Why loose your venom on me?”

Because you ran away, Arthur thought, because you never sais goodbye. Because you never wrote, because I found out by eavesdropping on the maids, because you didn’t trust me, because I thought you were dead for a whole year you absolute clotpole.

“Because you lied to me.”

Merlin stared at him in disbelief.

“Because I lied to you? Arthur, you’re the prince, the son of the king, who -in case you’ve forgotten- has ordered the death of every magic-wielder in the whole of Camelot.”

Arthur bit down on his lip, standing up and brushing down his silken tunic. For some reason, Merlin’s words seemed to strike a chord in his heart. He pretended to look fascinated by the bark on a nearby tree, resolutely avoiding Merlin’s attention. Merlin sighed, stepping forward and reaching for Arthur’s palm before seemingly thinking better from it and withdrawing his gloved hand.

“Look, Arthur, I-”

“Shut up, Merlin.”

“No, wait, I need to-”

“Shut up, Merlin!”

Then, without a seconds thought, Arthur was grabbing Merlin by the wrist, dragging him away as he raced across the mountain tops, away from the distant figures of an army that could only belong to his father. The motions felt very familiar, like he was sinking into an old pattern once more, grabbing Merlin to run away from whatever scenario he had conjured up. Only this time, their circumstances were wildly different.

He only stopped when they were well away from the soldiers sttorming through the mountain , gasping for breath as they folded themselves over a craggy rock jutting out of the ground.

“Use...your.. words….Sire..” Merlin panted, turning to glare at Arthur, who scowled in return.

“I..have no reason..to explain anything..to you, Merlin.” He sneered, turning over so his back rested against the rock, faing away from Merlin.

“Arthur, I had no choice! I was going to die if I stayed in camelot.”

Arthur huffed. “And you couldn’t write? It was a year, Merlin. I- I thought you were dead”.

“Arthur..” Merlin rested a hand on his shoulder. Arthur jerked away. “Why couldn’t you have just trusted me? I died that day, merlin!”

“Im sorry, Arthur! 

“Enough!” Arthur stood up apruptly, face red with rage as he stormed toward Merlin, who hurried away so that they were daning an uneven waltz. “I don't forgive you, and I never-”

And then Merlin felt his foot slip on a muddy path of grass, saw the sky suddenly turn on its side and felt harsh earth digging into his back as he rolled, bouned, and was thrown around the broken hill.

He rolled to a stop in what felt like years later, lying flat on his back and staring at the sky. It was grey all over, with not even a single patch of blue or bright yellow anywhere. Depressingly dull weather for a land that should be packed full of adventure, merlin thought.

“Merlin!” Arthur's sharp cry shattered Merlin’s brief peace, scaring a few sparrows into flight.

Oh no, Merlin thought, Surely he isnt stupid enough to fall down after me instead of simply decending like a normal person? Its not like i’d abandon him just after I rescued him, and if he does follow suit we might justhave two injured people on our hands.

A series of thuds, yelps and curse words from above answered his question.

“Look out!” Arthur shrieked like an angel from above, before he was crashing straight onto merlin, pushing the air out of his lungs and leaving merlin gasping for mercy.

“Ow” Merlin gasped, and turned to look at Arthur, who had stood up and was now brushing down his tunic. How could someone look so perect after tumbling down the side of a hill? Merlin hated him.

“Oh don't be such a girl, Merlin. It was just a stumble.”

“Just a stumble?” Merlin threw out his arms incredulously, before a sharp sting in the back of his head caused him to hiss and quickly retract his limbs. “We fell like, 50 feet!”

“Well, I’m fine.”

“Because you landed on me, you clotpole!”

Arthur waved a hand flippantly. “At least you got us away from my father’s men.”

“Im sure therewere about, ninety better ways to do so.” Merlin panted. “And anyway, why do you want to avoid them? Surely you’d like to go back home.”

“Oh” Arthur crossed his arms and pretended to look indifferent. “I guess I was just getting bored of that stuffy old kingdom.”

Merlin narrowed his eyes.

“But you couldn’t bear to be away from camelot, you always said you need to spend every last second learning how to be a good monarch for your people.”

Arthur looked into a grey spot in the distance and tried to swallow past the sudden sharpness in his throat, like jagged glass against rubber.

“My father...” He began, but his voice came out thin and reedy. He coughed and started again. “My father has deemed me...unfit to rule camelot.”

Suddenly unable to face upright, arthur looked at the grass beneath his feet, twisting a leather clad foot into a muddy patch. Merlin’s expression would be simply unbearable, especially as someone who had so strongly belived and encouraged him. What is the only reason he’d been rescued in the first place was because Merlin thought he was next in line to the throne? Would Merlin even-

And then there were scrawny arms around his torso, dark hair tickling his nose and the smell of home clouding his mind. 

“Its okay”, Merlin said, voice muffled. “t’ll be alright. Uther was a terrible role model anyway, prehaps this could be for the best after all.”

Arthur chuckled lightly, and closed his eyes against the wave of emotions threatening to spill over. Tentatively, he wrapped his arms around merlin in return.

“I think”, he said, allowing himself to breathe in deeply and cherishing this strange feeling of belonging, “You might be right.”

…

“But this still doesnt mean I forgive you”

“Of couse.”

Merlin waited. Arthur didn’t let go.

…

“Talk after we’ve finished hugging, sire?”

“Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooh I have so many plot twists in mind

**Author's Note:**

> Updates are scheduled for every 4-3 days! I hope you enjoyed :D


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